Strange Happenings
by Uptake
Summary: PreHogwarts. As Harry's magical powers increase, more and more strange things happen, and it's up to Arabella Figg to keep Harry out of trouble. But is she up to the task? Complete.
1. Ms Azul's Big Mistake

**Disclaimer: Please…is this really necessary? Of course I don't own Harry Potter.**

Harry Potter entered his third grade math class, clutching his homework tightly in one hand. It had taken him most of the night to complete, as math wasn't his best subject, but he was sure that he had done it right. Just as Harry was about to take his usual seat by the door (for a quick escape from Dudley after class), someone grabbed him roughly from behind and shoved him into the coat corner. Before he even turned around, Harry knew who it was.

Dudley stood behind him, flanked by two members of his gang, Gordon and Piers Polkiss. Malcolm and Dennis, who made up the rest of the group, had been held back a year, and for that Harry was truly grateful.

Piers, the smallest of the trio, moved to stand behind Harry. He reached out as if to hold back Harry's arms, but Harry twisted away. Dudley stepped forward, smiling. "Gimme your homework, cousin."

Harry was still holding onto his homework, which was now a bit crumpled and sweaty. "Why should I? You had as much time to finish it as I did." Harry knew he should've just handed over his homework (Dudley would end up with it anyway), but his mouth seemed to have acquired a mind of its own.

The smile on Dudley's fat face changed quickly to a nasty sneer. "Maybe you didn't hear me right the first time," he said, scowling. "I said give me your homework!"

A Dudley temper tantrum was obviously in the works, but Harry's mouth didn't seem to care. "I heard you just fine," Harry said, trying not to sound scared. "But I worked hard on this all night while all you managed to accomplish was to polish off an entire cake by yourself!"

While Harry was talking, Piers had somehow managed to get both of Harry's arms trapped in a viselike grip. Harry realized this belatedly when he saw Dudley's face go purple with anger. He struggled to free his arms as Dudley and Gordon advanced on him. Piers was surprisingly strong for his size. Just as Dudley's fist clenched, a sharp, disapproving voice interrupted. "And what, may I ask, is going on back here?"

Several things happened simultaneously. Harry's arms were abruptly released as Piers stepped over to join Dudley and Gordon, Dudley's fists relaxed and his face returned to its normal color, and their math teacher, Ms. Azul, appeared before them, arms crossed across her chest.

Harry tried to speak first, but Piers beat him to it. "Harry here stole Dudley's homework and we were just trying to talk him into returning it," he announced in his nasally voice.

"That's not true!" Harry countered hotly. "This is my work. Look, it's even got my name on it." He smoothed out the wrinkled, slightly damp paper before handing it over for inspection.

Gordon broke in, his voice sounding rusty from disuse. "Potter scribbled his name on it right before you came over, said you wouldn't know the difference."

Dudley, who had been silent up until this point, interrupted his loyal follower. "But surely a teacher as smart as you are would know when somebody's trying to cheat?" He simpered, wide eyed.

Ms. Azul's cheeks flushed at the flattery. "Well thank you, Mr. Dursley. And you're right of course, I know forgery when I see it." She rounded on Harry, whose cheeks were burning red with anger and humiliation. Surely the teacher wasn't going to buy that load of crock…

Dudley, Gordon, and Piers were busy making faces at Harry behind the teacher's back. Ms. Azul was oblivious, as she was busy reprimanding Harry. "Mr. Potter, I am deeply ashamed of you. I thought you knew better than that! Stealing your own cousin's work when he probably worked on it for hours while you laid about and did nothing!" Ms. Azul paused to take a breath, not noticing the sudden intensity in Harry's green eyes, or the sudden stiffness of his body.

Ms. Azul continued to scold Harry, who was no longer paying attention to her or the three sniggering boys behind her. By now, the rest of the class had arrived and were all standing in their chairs, trying to see what all the commotion was about. Harry ignored them as well and instead focused his attention on Ms. Azul's curly brown wig, hoping to regain some control.

The short brown curls stopped a few inches above her shoulders. Harry entertained himself with the thought of the wig suddenly changing colors. Green would be nice, or maybe purple. Better yet, all the colors, like a rainbow. Or blue. Yes, blue would be perfect. Harry had once heard Ms. Azul say she hated the color blue because of the reference to her name.

Harry was so engaged in imagining Ms. Azul's wig changing colors that he didn't even notice that she had stopped her speech mid-sentence. After a few seconds, Harry noticed the silence and looked over at his teacher. Ms. Azul was rooted to the spot, staring at something behind him. A mirror.

Ms. Azul's horrified expression confused Harry. It wasn't until Dudley stuttered, "M-Ms. Azul, y-your h-h-hair!" that it finally dawned on Harry why Ms. Azul looked shell-shocked, and why the rest of the class was rolling on the floor, laughing. Ms. Azul's wig had indeed turned blue. And on each side of her head, right above each ear, was one rainbow colored curl.

A giggle escaped from Harry before he could stop it. The sound broke Ms. Azul out of her stupor. She glared venomously at Harry, who was nervously trying to keep more chuckles from escaping. She was so angry that she could hardly speak. "You. Go. Office. Now." Her entire body was shaking with rage.

When Harry left the school office at the end of the day, a report from the headmistress in one hand, the earlier incident didn't seem quite as funny as before. If he didn't get the report in his hand signed by both of the Dursleys by tomorrow, he would receive three weeks of detention instead of the one he already had. And it went without saying that he had failed his homework assignment. It also went without saying that Dudley had gotten credit for his work.

Harry sighed morosely as he walked slowly home. Mrs. Figg was out front working in her garden. She smiled and waved as he passed. Harry forced himself to smile weakly and lift a hand in return. Sometimes if he was in a good mood he would stop and talk to the old woman. Today he didn't stop. Even though he was in no hurry to reach the Dursleys, Harry kept straight on his course to Privet Drive, knowing that his mood was about to get a whole lot worse.

ooooooooooooooo

Dumbledore,

I suppose you've already heard, but I'll pass along my news anyway. Somehow, Harry managed to dye his teacher's wig blue yesterday. I heard all about it from Petunia when she came over to admire my rose bushes this morning. She showed me the report from Harry's headmistress, along with a photo of the wig that was taken as "evidence."

I have to say, I'm rather impressed with our young Harry. That's fairly advanced magic for his age, and he did such a wonderful job, unintentionally of course. I wish you could've seen the two rainbow curls, though. They were absolutely delightful. I swear, if James were here he would be green with envy. I still remember the time he tried to dye Lily's hair purple and his spell backfired. Of course, the color grew out of his hair in a few days, but the memory of James stalking around the castle with bright purple hair, with Lily following him and laughing, still brings tears of mirth to my eyes. I miss them both so very much…

Arabella


	2. A Birthday Haircut

**Disclaimer: See chapter one.**

Harry Potter nervously backed away from his Aunt Petunia, who was advancing on him with a pair of very large scissors. Today was Harry's ninth birthday, and his aunt seemed to think that shearing off all of his "nasty, unruly hair" would make for an appropriate gift. Needless to say, Harry did not agree with her. At the moment he was seriously considering making a break for the back door, but even as small as he was Harry wasn't sure if he could squeeze past his cousin. Dudley had his head in the refrigerator and his enormous backside was blocking the path to freedom.

Aunt Petunia's bony hand shot out and nabbed Harry tightly by the arm before he had a chance to decide. Petunia dragged him over to a chair that had been placed squarely in the middle of the kitchen floor. "Now you sit down and don't move a muscle," she ordered.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry obediently sat and watched warily as Petunia moved to stand beside him. She wasted no time in getting started. "I've put up with that hair of yours for long enough," she informed him crossly, brandishing the scissors like a weapon. For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the room were the snipping of the scissors and Petunia's shrill voice, complaining about anything and everything. Harry tuned it out and tried to keep from thinking about how terrible he'd look when his aunt was finished with him.

Harry heard the refrigerator door slam, and a second later Dudley came into view, his mouth covered with icing and his arms loaded with leftovers. He plopped down at the table, causing the chair he sat in to groan loudly in protest, and emptied the contents of his arms in front of him. The snipping of the scissors paused as Petunia gazed fondly at her son. "Is my little Duddlykins getting enough to eat? She asked sweetly. Harry fought to keep his face straight at Petunia's question. It sure looked like Dudley was getting enough to eat to him. Dudley grinned at his mother and nodded, a few biscuit crumbs falling into his lap.

Petunia resumed cutting and Harry was forced to watch as Dudley stuffed his face and showed the contents of his mouth to Harry when Petunia wasn't paying attention. The back of Harry's head was feeling more and more exposed. He had a very bad feeling about this, and a knot was slowly forming in the pit of his stomach. It got bigger when Petunia moved in front of him and attempted to flatten his thick bangs with her hand. The scissors she was still holding came dangerously close to poking him in the eye.

Petunia finally stepped back and surveyed her work with a critical eye. "I think I'll just leave those bangs to hide that horrible scar of yours." She pointed to his forehead with the scissors, and Harry could see the blades were covered with short, black hairs.

At his mother's words, Dudley stopped mid-chew and looked up at Harry. His eyes widened considerably and food sprayed from his mouth as he was seized with laughter. "You did a great job, mum!" He managed to choke out.

Petunia swept over to her son and patted his cheek, smearing some of the leftover icing in the process. "Thank you darling."

Harry glared at his cousin, wishing he would choke on one of the chicken legs he was eating. "Yeah, maybe next time she can cut your hair, too." He smiled at Dudley's wide-eyed look of horror.

Petunia rounded on Harry as he stood up and stretched, brushing a few stray hairs off his shirt. "Take off that shirt," she ordered. "I don't want you getting hair all over the house." Harry pulled his shirt over his head, placed it neatly on the chair he had just vacated, and left the room before either Petunia or Dudley could say anything else.

The closest mirror was in the downstairs bathroom. Harry quickly entered and went to stand directly in front of the mirror. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then forced himself to open his eyes. A loud gasp escaped his mouth at the sight of his nearly bald head. What had his aunt done to him? His breath came faster and faster as he continued to stare at his massacred hair. His bangs still hung messily in his eyes, and they did indeed hide "his horrible scar."

Feeling numb, Harry walked slowly back to his cupboard and got a clean t-shirt out of his drawers. He put it on and made his way outside. It was still light outside, despite the late hour. Running one hand over the short bristles on his head, Harry sat on the edge of one of the flowerbeds that lined the side of the house. What was he going to do? He had summer school tomorrow, and he couldn't possibly go looking like this. What would the other kids say?

A tear formed in the corner of one eyes and slid slowly down his face. Wiping it roughly away, Harry cradled his head in both hands, trying to keep down the sobs that were threatening to emerge. It wasn't such a big deal, he told himself. The other kids would make fun of him no matter what he looked like.

Harry waited until his breathing was no longer ragged before going back inside. He went straight to his cupboard, shut the door, and fell back onto his tiny bed. His head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes, wanting to go to sleep and forget about tomorrow.

An hour later he was still awake. The rest of the house had gone to bed and it was dark. Turning over onto his side, Harry stared at the wall and slipped into one of his most popular daydreams. It was always the same. One morning, the doorbell would ring, and the Dursleys would make him go answer it. He would open the door and unsurprisingly, there would be a person on the other side. The person was blurry and Harry could never see exactly what they looked like, but for some reason he got the impression that it was a very old man. The man would turn out to be some long lost relative and whisk him away to a different part of the country, where he would live a very happy life. He would be allowed to eat whatever he wanted, he would have his own toys, and most importantly, he would have real, live friends.

The daydream never came true, but it had gotten Harry through many a tough time.

Somewhere around dawn, Harry fell into a restless sleep, where he dreamed that he was at school surrounded by all the other kids, who were pointing and laughing at his shaved head. Suddenly, his hair began to grow, and it grew so long that it wrapped around the children making fun of him, making it impossible for them to move. Dudley had just materialized at his side with a pair of scissors half the size of his massive body when a loud noise brought Harry out of his dream. It was Aunt Petunia pounding on the door. "Get up now or you'll be late for school!" She yelled.

Wouldn't want that, Harry thought grumpily as he sat up and ran a hand over his head, by habit. Instead of the short bristled he expected to feel, his hand met soft tresses of long hair. What in the world? Excited, Harry burst out of his cupboard and ran to the bathroom. He gaped at the reflection he saw in the mirror. His hair looked exactly as it had before his Aunt Petunia had butchered it. A slow smile spread over his face and he let out a loud _whoop_! before he could stop himself.

The noise drew Petunia's attention. She stomped towards the bathroom. "Keep it down! Dudley's trying to slee--" She stopped in mid sentence at the sight of Harry's full head of hair. She stared at him for a minute, then stepped forward and cuffed him sharply on the head. "What did you do!" She shouted, her eyes wide with anger.

Harry backpedaled rapidly. "Nothing, I swear. I don't know how this happened," he said hastily, gesturing towards his head.

"The hell you don't," Petunia snapped, grabbing him forcefully by the upper arms. She pulled him down the hallway and pushed him back into his cupboard. "You'll be in there for a week," she said from the other side of the closed door.

Harry heard his Uncle Vernon's voice in the hallway. "What the devil's going on here?" He demanded. Petunia rushed to explain, but not understanding what happened herself, failed miserably. But it was definitely Harry's fault, whatever it was.

Vernon addressed Harry. "Boy! You better explain yourself!"

Harry shouted back at him, wanting to clear himself of the blame. "I don't know what happened!" He said desperately. "I can't explain it, I just woke up like this!"

His answer was obviously not satisfactory, because he heard the lock being flipped down on his door, and then two sets of footsteps walking away. He could hear his uncle talking to Petunia. "…and make sure he doesn't get anything to eat today…"

With a loud sigh, Harry slumped to the floor and leaned his head against the side of his bed. The knot in his chest was coming back again at the thought of spending a week in his cupboard, but on second thought, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He did have his hair back, after all, and he wouldn't have to go back to summer school. A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. Somehow, he had gotten his hair back, and that was definitely worth any punishment the Dursleys could throw at him.

ooooooooooooooo

Dumbledore,

Harry has had another…incident. Petunia got tired of his messy hair (it looks exactly like James did), and took a pair of scissors to it. I saw him afterwards, sitting outside by the flowerbeds, and I tell you, he looked a sight! I almost started to laugh, but then I saw how devastated he was. The poor boy, he's so miserable with that dreadful family of his. Who wouldn't be, though?

But to get on with my story, Harry apparently grew his hair back overnight. You know he must have been awfully upset to perform that kind of magic, Dumbledore. His magic is getting even more advanced as he grows. Who knows what he'll be doing next? Anyway, I didn't see Harry for a week after that. I expect he was locked in his cupboard, courtesy of his wonderful family. I've always known that the Dursleys abuse Harry verbally and mentally, but I suspect that they abuse him physically too, although I don't really have any evidence. Oh Dumbledore, why can't he stay with me? I know you don't think it's safe, but we could disguise him, or maybe even transfigure him into a cat. That seems to work fairly well, you know, and it makes for much cleaner house pets.

Arabella


	3. The Hideous Sweater

**Disclaimer: See chapter one. **

It was the day before Christmas vacation, and the first snow of the year had left the town, and Privet Drive, covered in three inches of fluffy white snow. And while the snow was pretty, it was also very cold. This explained why ten-year old Harry Potter was digging through the attic at six o'clock in the morning. He had no warm clothes to wear, and was hoping to find an old sweater or jacket in one of the cardboard boxes that, up until ten minutes ago, had been stacked neatly against the walls.

Storage boxes were now strewn across the tiny attic room, and none of them contained anything that might be of any use to Harry. The smell of mothballs was getting stronger by the minute, and he was running out of patience. Finally, after another fifteen minutes of searching, Harry gave up. He stuffed loose clothing haphazardly back into random boxes and made his way downstairs.

Petunia was already making breakfast, although both Vernon and Dudley had yet to grace the household with their presence. Deciding that he might as well ask his aunt if she had any old clothing he could borrow, Harry cautiously approached the kitchen and peeked inside. The smell of sausage and eggs made his mouth water.

"What do you want?" Petunia's sharp voice demanded.

"Erm, I just wondered if you had an old jacket I could borrow." Harry braced himself against the inevitable tirade. Surprisingly, it never came.

Wiping her hands on a dishrag, Petunia looked him up and down, and then glanced out the window. "No, I suppose we'd get in trouble if we sent you out in this weather without a proper sweater." She brushed past him and up the stairs. Harry hovered near the banister, unsure if he was supposed to follow or not.

A few minutes later, Petunia emerged from the upper hallway, gripping what looked like a dead animal in one hand. Harry fought the urge to run and hide under his tiny bed. Surely he wasn't supposed to wear that…that thing?

Petunia walked up to Harry and unfolded the material in her hand to reveal a hideous brown sweater with large orange puffballs. She held it up to Harry's small frame. It fell just above his knees, and was big enough to fit seven or eight of him in. "This ought to be just fine," she muttered under her breath.

Without warning, Petunia tugged the sweater down over Harry's head, knocking his glasses askew and making everything black. Although he wasn't in any real danger, Harry panicked. He couldn't wear that shirt to school; he _wouldn't_ wear that shirt to school. The air inside the shirt was getting hot and sticky, as Petunia was obviously having trouble finding the hole for his head. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry felt the rough, itchy material being tugged down over his tangled hair. No, no, no, no, no! Suddenly the shirt constricted, pressing tightly against Harry's face and smothering him.

Real panic took over, and Harry struggled to get away from Petunia's forceful hands. Stepping free, he reached up with both hands and pulled the offending shirt up and over his head. The world swam back into view. Gasping for breath, Harry rearranged his glasses and looked down at the sweater in his hands.

Petunia snatched it before he could have a closer look. She held it up against him, as she had earlier, and scowled. The entire shirt was now small enough to fit a doll, or a puppet. Looking down at the floor, Harry grimaced and waited for his punishment to fall. When his aunt did not speak, he timidly raised his eyes to her face. Frowning, she was still staring down at the sweater. "It must've shrunk in the wash…yes, that must be it. Perfectly logical explanation, no funny business here…"

Bewildered, Harry listened as his aunt mumbled to herself. Just as he opened his mouth to ask what she meant by 'funny business', Petunia looked up and jumped, as though she had forgotten Harry was there.

"Go get ready for school. I'll find something else for you to wear." And without another word or glance, Petunia swept back up the stairs, leaving Harry with his mouth hanging open, amazed at his luck. Not only did he not have to wear that old, musty sweater of Dudley's, but he had also escaped a strange situation without punishment. That was a first.

ooooooooooooooo

Dumbledore,

Do you still plan on having your Christmas party at Hogwarts this year? If so, let's hope it goes better than last year's did. We can't have students enchanting or bewitching the food again. Took an hour to get everyone back to normal again, if you remember. Just be sure you keep a close eye on those Weasley twins. I know they were only first years at the time, but it was them who tampered with the food. You could see it in their eyes. And don't you find it suspicious that they were the only students in the hall that weren't covered in feathers, boils, scales, or warts?

Anyway, the real reason I wrote you is Harry. Seems our young friend is performing magic again. His Aunt Petunia brought me a disgusting brown sweater today that was covered in fuzzy orange balls. Thought I might be able to use it for one of my "beautiful cats," (as if they would ever wear something so monstrously ugly). She told me that she had tried to fit Harry into it, but it seemed to have shrunk in the wash. I think she really believed that, too. But I know that Harry did it because the Ministry confirmed that a shrinking charm was used at the Dursley house two mornings ago. Can't say that I blame Harry for not wanting to wear that…thing. And in case you're wondering, I burned the shirt in the fireplace. Good riddance to it, I say.

Arabella

P.S.-You will let me know about the Christmas party, won't you?


	4. On the Run

**Disclaimer: See chapter one. **

"There he is!"

The shout made Harry Potter turn and bolt around the corner of the school building. The shout had come from Piers Polkiss, and in turn had turned the attention of Dudley and his gang onto Harry. Harry knew that if they caught him he would look like nothing more than a bloody pulp by the time they were finished with him.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind Harry as he ran full speed across the black asphalt. If he could just reach those huge trashcans that were right by the back door to the kitchen, he would be all right. That had always been one of his favorite hiding places from Dudley and his crew.

Perhaps it was only Harry's overactive imagination, but he could've sworn that one of Dudley's gang was so close behind him that he could feel their breath on his neck. The trashcans were just feet away. Feeling slightly panicked, Harry attempted to jump behind the closest one. He closed his eyes and waited with bated breath for the other boys to pass him. When he heard nothing for a few seconds, he slowly opened his eyes and looked around. He was perched next to the black metal chimney that was right over the school kitchens. The roof was baking hot under him, and the sounds from the ground were distant.

Somehow, Dudley's gang had not seen his incredible jump, and somehow, he, Harry, had ended up sitting on the roof. The wind was strong today, maybe it had just caught him in mid-jump? There really was no other explanation for it.

Relaxing slightly, Harry closed his eyes and savored the breeze on his face. He was, however, rudely interrupted minutes later by a shout from below. "There he is!" Piers Polkiss had shouted again, but this time he was not alerting Dudley. He was standing next to the Headmistress herself and pointing up at Harry with a malicious grin on his rat-like face, while Dudley and the rest of his gang laughed openly.

The Headmistress (Harry had forgotten her name), looked furious. "Get down here at once!" She ordered. But it soon became apparent that without a ladder, Harry wasn't going anywhere. So it transpired that Harry spent a good two hours on the roof while the Headmistress went to find a janitor. School was out by the time the old janitor arrived, carrying the ladder he used to clean out the gutters. When Harry had both feet planted safely on the ground, the Headmistress dragged him straight to her office. She spent a good half hour yelling at him, and then sent him home with a letter to the Dursleys saying that he had been climbing school buildings. Harry tried to explain to her what had happened, but she wouldn't hear it.

Neither would Uncle Vernon. Ignoring Harry's shouts (I was only trying to jump behind the trash cans!) and pleas, Vernon turned and joined his family at the dining room table for a delicious dinner, while Harry was forced to endure the tempting smell that drifted in through the vents and the violent rumblings of the stomach. The day couldn't possibly have been any worse.

ooooooooooooooo

Dumbledore,

Harry is once again locked away in his cupboard under the stairs. Would you like to know why? All right, I'll tell you. This afternoon, Harry was sent home with a note saying that he had been caught climbing school buildings. But we both know that he wouldn't be doing that. My guess is that some bully (his lovely cousin, perhaps?) was chasing him and he got so frightened that he levitated himself onto the roof.

Isn't levitation a bit advanced for him? I know most third years had trouble levitating more than a feather or a pillow, so how is it that our Harry has enough power, without a wand I might add, to levitate himself? Just something to think about, I suppose. Anyway, Mr. Tufty thought it would be amusing to eat my begonias and make himself sick in the process, so now I have to spend the rest of the day repairing my poor garden.

Arabella

P.S.-Snowy says hello.


	5. The Boa Constrictor

**Disclaimer: See chapter one. **

**A/N: This is the last chapter, and since Rowling already describes the Boa Constrictor Incident in the book, this will just be Arabella's note to Dumbledore, and his reply. **

Dumbledore,

Harry is once again in terrible trouble, although I'm not exactly sure what he did this time. All I know is that yesterday Harry went to the zoo with his family to celebrate Dudley's birthday (I couldn't take him due to the fact that I tripped over Mr. Tufty and broke my leg. Stupid cat better thank his lucky stars that I'm a squib, or else I'd have turned him into a turnip), and when they returned in the evening, Vernon practically had Harry in a headlock. I haven't seen the poor boy since.

What I do know is that at approximately 3:12 yesterday afternoon, a vanishing spell was used at the zoo in the Reptile Center, and a large boa constrictor escaped. Who else could've done that but Harry? But why would he want to set a monstrous snake like that loose? It could have swallowed him whole.

I think that I might call up Petunia later on and ask a few questions. Lord knows that one loves to talk, so I'm sure I can get you more information soon.

Arabella

ooooooooooooooo

Arabella,

Our Harry just can't seem to keep himself out of trouble, can he? Yes, I got the reports from the Ministry of Magic, and Harry did indeed use a vanishing spell to free the boa constrictor. I wonder what caused such a strong reaction in Harry, and why the boa did not harm anybody. It's very strange, indeed.

I have been toying with several theories regarding Harry and the serpent, but none of them seems likely. But since there was no harm done, it isn't really that important. Perhaps it was just a case of Dudley bullying his cousin, or perhaps Harry bonded with the snake. It could even be a combination of both, I suppose.

Lastly, I must ask you to keep a close watch on Harry from now on. He will be getting his Hogwart's letter soon, and his safety is of the utmost importance. If you have any problems, please contact me at once.

Lemon Drops and Cherry Chews,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

P.S.-Thank you for the box of muggle jelly beans. Of course there weren't as many flavors as Bernie Bott's, but they proved to be much safer for my taste buds.


End file.
